


let me be the end of you

by orphan_account



Series: love, war, and the end [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Sylvain Jose Gautier, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Heartache, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Ingrid Brandl Galatea, M/M, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Self Loathing, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mentions of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sylvain is not a subtle man, and Dedue is not a stupid one either.So somehow, they come together. Sylvain is shameless, repulsive, awful; he's used to walking a fine line.But something in him clicks, and all he can think about is how he wants Dedue to look at him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Implied Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Annette Fantine Dominic, Previous Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dedue Molinaro
Series: love, war, and the end [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622566
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	let me be the end of you

_ I want him to look at me. _

It had only taken a second. The professor said it was an easy scouting mission for some extra gold since they were down on supplies, and no one should get hurt in theory. But the arrow pierced Dedue’s perfect form, and the blood that rained down rivaled Faerghus blizzards. Sylvain was an awful man, a horrible man at that; He watched Dedue fall to the ground and Mercedes rush to his side, healing magic in hand, and all he could wonder is if he was looking his way even now.

His little distraction cost him a spear at the side from a dirty bandit, but he didn’t even think about it as he plunged the Lance of Ruin into the stranger’s chest. Blood coated him in a picturesque manner, and Sylvain would have complained if his eyes weren’t glued on Dedue’s near dead body. Dimitri had advanced in front of the poor man to act as a shield for his heaving form, and Sylvain tried to count the times his chest rose and fell. He had never seen him so vulnerable, so this was a sight to behold. It rose 34 times and fell 33 times.

This never-ending hunger started ever since he was a boy. One day it might have been a guard passing by, another day it would be a boy his age who would be a stranger by tomorrow. Most often, it was his brother, who would only look away in disgust once he was done beating him black and blue. Not even his father would look at him, not in the way Sylvain wanted, anyway. His father would see him only as an heir, as a living crest, not as his son or as the horrible boy he was growing up to be. 

The only person who looked at him neither in a positive or negative light was the professor, but the professor was so unsettling in a way Sylvain both hated and liked. The professor did not retreat at the sight of Dedue’s bloodied body, but the rest of the bandits fell to the Sword of the Creator and its siblings, Lúin and Areadbhar. Sylvain tried not to smirk as the professor and his comrades scavenged for the gold off of their corpses only to find about 9,000 smooth gold coins. Was that the price the professor put on Dedue’s life? For once, Sylvain did not feel like the scummiest guy in the room.

While they rode back to the monastery, he thought back on the man he hardly talked to. Dedue was alive, thank the Goddess, but it took all of Mercedes’ white magic and a bit of Marianne’s to keep him that way. He was unconscious now, carried by the professor and Dimitri. Sylvain didn’t dare ask to help out; His Highness would surely kill him, at least not before the professor themselves did. Dimitri was his friend, yes, but his relationship with Dedue was...different. He wasn’t the boy he used to be, and Sylvain had no right to comment on that in the first place, but he was weirdly obsessive over his servant’s health. Perhaps it was the alleged death of his that drove Dimitri nuts. Who knows, Sylvain thought, but Felix definitely thought he knew plenty.

Besides, he realized that Dimitri might catch onto his fixation should he offer to help out given no one else was, except for Ashe who looked close to sobbing his eyes out. Was he really that selfish? Sylvain was always full of this need to be seen, need to be looked at; the gaze didn’t have to be positive. As long as he was being looked at, it didn’t matter if it was just another glance before the finishing blow or one of disapproval, it was enough to satisfy the need. So what if Dimitri and the professor thought of him as disrespectful? It wouldn’t matter, not to him.

Usually, he got what he wanted after flirting with a girl once or twice, but after a few days the lingering satisfaction reduced to regret. He was never too proud of taking a girl to a room and never seeing her again after the night was over, but he was never a prideful man. Sylvain was shameless, but life was short and it wasn’t getting any longer, so if it took a thousand maidens, he was willing to accept that.

If that were true, why did he want Dedue to spare him a glance? And why didn’t he just take what he wanted?

Sylvain knew he was a man without honor, doomed to be looked at for his crest and doomed to get married to a poor girl who didn’t even know him, and worst of all, he wanted men to look at him. He was a disgusting excuse of a noble heir, he couldn’t even get married and have the perfect crest babies for his stupid house. As if a person as noble and as blindly loyal as Dedue would have the time to even think about him outside of the battlefield. Not like this anyway.

Manuela was taking care of him in the infirmary now. Sylvain tried to not feel smug over the professor’s worry; even though their poker face did not slip, it was in the details. Their sparring posture was lazy, their grip on their wooden sword much too tight and they sighed more often than usual. It was a few hours after the battle now and the sun had set, and watching Felix spar with the professor and win was satisfying. For once, the perfect crested professor who did not have to endure the pain Sylvain did had fallen from grace. 

“You’ve gotten lazy. What’s wrong with you? Don’t tell me you’ve gone mad like that boar.” Sylvain stifled a laugh as he watched Felix criticize his professor. He liked the professor, but it was kind of ridiculous watching his childhood friend criticize his leader so openly. The poor boy was never much of a sheep though, was he? The professor had nothing to say and simply raised their weapon again, giving a soft sigh which only angered Felix more. It was obvious in just the way he moved his body.

The spar ended with both parties equally disgruntled and a rather elated Sylvain. He would have offered to spar with him following the professor, but he knew it was a bad time. After years of knowing him (and pining for him in his younger years), Felix was an open book.

“Hey, are you alright?” A stern voice cut through Sylvain’s thoughts, and he had to remember he was supposed to be eating right now, Ingrid sat across him at the dining hall, taking a forkful of his pheasant roast in the process. “You’re weirdly quiet and not as annoying as usual. A girl hasn’t caught your eye? Or are you finally turning out for the better?”

“Actually, I think I’m worse than ever.” Sylvain flashed her a coy grin. “I’m fine though, if that’s what you’re asking.” He swiped a bit of her fruit and herring tart in retaliation. The fish was overcooked and the fruit not ripe at all, but it was better than nothing. “Funny how we both got plates the other loves.” He winked to seal the deal, but she didn’t overreact like she tended to do so.

“Please don’t tell me you’re planning on harassing women. Once the war is over…” Ingrid took a moment to sigh. She was always caring about every little detail, which was both irritating and endearing. “I’m worried about you. You have no idea what’s going to happen to you, are you?”

“No, I’m aware.” Sylvain wondered if he should tell Ingrid his devastating secret. She herself was a hypocrite, considering how she and Dorothea had their little dates (she was awful at hiding) back when Garreg Mach was still a school. Sylvain cut a slice of his pheasant meat, watching as the berry sauce spilled from it. How would she react to his fixation on a man from Duscur? He didn’t want to find out. “I’m just trying to have fun before it all falls apart.”

“I think it’s falling apart now, and you don’t even realize it.” Ingrid turned her eyes down. Here was another of her endless lectures. He thought she could rival the professor in that aspect, if only the professor wasn’t nonverbal. “I care about you, and-”

“You’re not my mother, Ingrid. I’m going to be fine, really. Just relax.” Before she could start, he gave her a smile and left the piece of pheasant on her plate. 

“You’re awful, Sylvain. Really.” Ingrid chewed thoughtfully on the piece of meat, ignoring her still warm tart. “I look forward to the day you marry.”

They were both liars, but in their friendship, it just worked that way. Sylvain wasn’t sure if he would have it any other way.

He wanted to ask,  _ did you get that letter from your family? _ The one with a navy blue wax seal scented with lavender and rosemary, slightly damp from the Faerghus snow.  _ We’re getting married; you’re a lesbian and I’m in love with a man you loathe and we’re best friends. My dad didn’t want to put you with Felix out of shame for his dead brother and I’m the only option you have left.  _ He wanted to apologize, but for what? Ingrid wouldn’t believe his sincerity. __

Sylvain simply took another bite of her tart, savoring the bitter taste as much as he possibly could. He had heard of people losing their sense of taste out of shock, or a tragic incident that had caused a loss of feeling from a red-haired merchant with a taste for gossip. Despite the fact this tart was badly burnt on the bottom and that it was over seasoned, for now it tasted like heaven. 

“We should thank Annette,” Sylvain hummed out. “This tart is great.”

“What? Annette didn’t make that.” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Ashe did. Don’t tell me you’re blaming her for something she didn’t do.” _ It’s awful, but don’t be mean _ , Sylvain felt she wanted to say, but he interrupted her before she could.

“No, I mean it. I’m not being sarcastic.” Sylvain gave her a genuine smile this time and he laughed. At the edge of his eye, ginger hair passed by, and before he knew it, he let out a yell. “Hey, Annette! Thanks for the food today!”

She opened her mouth in confusion while accompanying Felix, who looked just about ready to draw his sword. However, Ingrid was there to save the day as always.

“Sorry! Sylvain’s a little weird today, please forgive him, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Ingrid stood up and held up her hands in forfeit. “Er, have a nice meal, I’m sorry on Sylvain’s behalf.”

“No, it’s alright, thank you! You’re welcome, Sylvain!” Annette laughed as if she were playing along before Felix shook his head in disapproval. The pair sat as far as humanly possible to Sylvain and Ingrid, probably on Felix’s decision.

“See? What am I going to do with you, Sylvain?” Ingrid slumped back down in frustration before letting out a groan. “You’ve made Felix mad again. And you ate all of my tart!”

“Sorry.” Sylvain ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t help it, you know?”

“The flirting, or the tart eating?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” He wasn’t sorry for either of those reasons. Maybe it wasn’t fair he had omitted the part where he told her he was thinking of Dedue more than ever, and would probably continue to do so after they married, but an apology was an apology.

If only he wasn’t so awful at apologizing in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> I am probably the only person who sees Sylvain and Dedue together seriously. I will cope with it, one day...


End file.
